SILENCE! #152

August 11th, 2015

 

LIKE A PIG PULLING A CARTLOAD OF SAUSAGES, I DRAW MY OWN CONCLUSION

Blurb, man’s oldest friend.

Since time began it is blurb that has kept us warm, fed our children, bought our shoes, made us dance, laugh, cry and win prizes. Every day we take blurb for granted but no one truly knows what it is. Blurb, science’s last great mystery. As we discover more about our universe, it’s easy to feel there are are no mysteries left. We can put man on the moon, build robots that cook dinner and teleport to Kent but we are no closer to understanding blurb now than we were in the Flintstone age.

No point in bothering to figure it out when you consider all that, is there?

<ITEM> Here we go with another issue of SILENCE! Listen… yeah, that’s it… wait for it… the beat’s gonna drop… any second now, turn it up… here it comes… it’s sick when the beat drops… hold on… oh, sorry.

<ITEM> Lose your shit to our self deprecating chat including sponsorshunt, Safari Festival, Portslade Village Fete, Gary’s forthcoming BBC New Comedy Award performance (as Fraser Geesin),  and SILENCE! The Film Has Started with the animated adaptation of Dark Knight Returns. Oh yes, and the Two Alans.

<ITEM> The Reviewniverse then beckons you onto the dancefloor to throw shapes alongside Dark Corridor, Kaptara, John Flood, Wic Div, This Damned Band, Airboy, Battleworld: Seige, Ms. Marvel, Death in Oaxaca, Black Canary, The Omega Men and Age of Reptiles.

<ITEM> That’s it really, apart from some Begging

Click to download SILENCE!#152

Contact us:

silencepodcast@gmail.com

@silencepod
@frasergeesin
@thebeastmustdie
@bobsymindless

You can support us using Patreon if you like.

This edition of SILENCE! is proudly sponsored by the greatest comics shop on the planet, DAVE’S COMICS of Brighton. It’s also sponsored the greatest comics shop on the planet GOSH! Comics of London.

Heroic hype: the Batcave

August 21st, 2009

As adults we forget how strange things are. Take caves, for example.

On a recent holiday, my wife, son, and I found ourselves on a guided tour through a cave system. The group was large, and the cave as well lit as the intersection between health and safety and the management’s sense of theatricality would allow. The guide’s patter was honed and confident, glinting with comfortable jokes that didn’t require laughter, and just the right blend of folklore and history to keep us interested. The package offered no reason this side of phobia to feel unsafe, or uncertain. No-one was going to get lost, and no-one was going to get hurt, even boredom was unlikely to be much of a problem given that the tour was, quite sensibly, rather short.

But somewhere in the darkness beneath the spotlit consumer experience the real appeal rustled. Awe. It went unspoken of course only ever hinted at or skirted. The guide spoke of a gigantic network of which ours was but a fragment, of divers who had squeezed their way through small spaces in the deep and discovered gigantic caverns, one of which was thus far inexplicable to the geologists and engineers that had pored over the photographs, the mega-tonnage above the vast cave roof apparently unsupportable. The guide also spoke of deeper passages still, of underground lakes and streams, and of tunnels yawning forever into the earth. Even the history of the place hung like a heavy shadow. The caves had been sacred to the Celts, who offered up sacrifices to the dark. Later the Christians came and banished the old religion, a conflict hinted at in the local legend of a witch turned to stone by a priest. The guide showed us the rock where, if the light is right, the witch’s petrified profile can still be seen glaring into the blackness, and claimed, as a good tour guide should, that late at night her mordant laughter can be heard echoing in the depths.

Perhaps from sub-level 7, perhaps deeper

batcave

Down, down, down…